After wandering for not too long, the large snake smelled the characteristic scent of goats and found a herd of mountain goats grazing on dry grass in a rock crevice sheltered from the wind.
Rowan stood firmly on the jagged rocky peak, the wind blowing his hair into a mess, and began the hunt. He gripped the spear tightly, his muscles tense, his sharp gaze locking onto the target, taking charge of the main attack.
Owen, in his giant beast form, glided silently, acting as the rear guard to encircle them, blocking the prey's retreat to ensure none could escape.
With their powerful alliance and coordination down to every breath, the herd of mountain goats couldn't hop around for long.
In less than a few minutes, the herd had suffered heavy losses, panic-stricken bleating echoing throughout the valley. The survivors ran wildly in all directions, disregarding the danger as they plunged down the cliffs to get away from these two gods of death.
